A NATURIST
A tall girl with a chiseled Greek goddess-like figure, with a mop of unruly curly hair, walked into the room. She was a naturist, and an absolutely dazzling naturist. A young girl, slightly reddish, with white pearl skin, "Callipiga," with a high waist, with thin wrists and ankles, with beautifully shaped hands, with breasts like on antique marbles. In addition, she resembled the Hermitage marble Diana Goudon, whose model was Madame Dubarry, the mistress of Louis XV.
Boucher Prudon or Ingres would draw such nudity, but the artist Alexander was timid in front of nature. It was necessary to lime a lot of paper and coal in order to achieve at least small results in order to live up to the minute (and whether it will come this minute), when an obedient hand learns to transfer eye impressions to a sheet of paper.
The artists who painted the young beauty looked at her admiringly. All the men looked at her admiringly and longingly as she walked down the street shaking her hips.
Entering the studio, the naturist, this charming sorceress, without shyness appeared from behind the screens naked, without pretense and embarrassment, took a given pose and froze in state of immobility, beautiful, proud and indifferent to the views of artists.
It seemed that Alexander was more worried than she was. For him, the amazing privilege that the artist's profession gave him has not yet become commonplace: in broad daylight, undress an unfamiliar woman and admire her nudity, ask her poses, contemplate her for hours from all sides to feel like an ellin of the pericles of the century.
He painted her all week, daily. Waking up in the morning, he immediately recalled the bright room and the shining nudity of the model and rejoiced that even today it was a sunny day for his happiness, as spring sometimes gives us, and now he will go to the workshop and draw this naked beauty and, it seems, it turned out quite well.
After the sessions, the model immediately dressed and left, arrogant, slender, elegant, in her dark blue dress and fashionable hat. She did not speak with the artist and did not show any interest in the drawings. The artist gallantly escorted her to the door.
"My name is Alexander," he introduced himself.
- Anastasia. Very nice, - she answered.
... The artist Alexander settled in the workshop high in the attic. In winter, the walls froze from the cold there, and in summer, hot air creaked from the sun-heated roof. Often Alexander, seized with inspiration, created an unknown masterpiece. The workshop was so cramped that perhaps other invited guests would have been furious with the amenities on offer. He dined at the inn. Subtracting information from albums with reproductions of great masters, he shook his head and thought about his professional future. He graduated from the University of Painting at the Academy of Arts and during this time he completely mastered the technique of drawing. Several of his works have already participated in city and regional exhibitions, receiving approving reviews. Alexander was already a recognized artist, a representative of bohemia, a secular lion.
The friendliness and docile disposition of the artist attracted people, his sociable character made Alexander the soul of the company. Soft humor, high intelligence and erudition stood out from the crowd, but the owner of these qualities never flaunted his merits, remaining himself, modest and charming.
Now Alexander was lying in his workshop on a sofa and dreamily was thinking about Anastasia, this young model. Obviously, she was from a poor family, since she began to earn extra money as a naturist. Most likely, she grew up without a father. Youth and beauty were her main wealth. Nevertheless, Anastasia was proud and arrogant, despite her non-aristocratic background. "Femme fatale," he thought.
Alexander decided to visit the exhibition and look at the art of other artists. Suddenly, he ran into Anastasia at an exhibition at the Museum, in the tenth hall on the second floor, stopping at Degas's paintings.
- How do you, Anastasia? Blue colour, in my opinion, filled the entire space of the picture, - said another woman, apparently Anastasia's friend.
Anastasia grinned and simply said:
- Ah, Maria, this is Degas's world, he's all like that, this is his calling card.
Standing nearby, Alexander drew attention to Anastasia, her manner of keeping herself and extraordinary beauty.
Throwing a fleeting glance, the artist could no longer tear himself away, completely fascinated by Anastasia's face.
The most delicate oval, huge eyes, slightly slanting, but blue and bottomless, thick, long eyelashes, a small nose, full lips with a pattern of the ancient Greek goddess.
And the hands were Venus, just not Venus of Milo, but the one with the hands - Aphrodite of Cnidus, a woman with long fingers, which musicians have.
- A really nice smile and what delicate skin, amazing! 'the artist marveled mentally.
Anastasia turned around, Alexander saw curls of silk hair descending along her temple, past a small, neat ear, lying in strands on her neck and shoulders.
The artist felt the need to get to know each other better, he said the first thing that came to mind:
- And you know that all four blue dancers are one girl.
Alexander said this phrase, as it were, by the way, but saying, all strained, waiting for the reaction of the listeners, as if his whole future life depends on it.
Maria was the first to answer, the woman looked closely at the work and did not notice any similarity.
Anastasia, on the contrary, looking at the interlocutor, said:
- This is just one of the versions, although I also lean towards it.
She noticed me! - the inner artist rejoiced, and to consolidate the success, Alexander said:
- My name is Alexander, I am an artist, but unlike Degas, I do not paint in pastels, but in oil.
Anastasia became interested, turned her head in the direction of Alexander and asked:
- Perhaps I am familiar with your creative works?
The artist shook his head.
- I rarely exhibit, mostly work on private orders, make interior paintings.
- Oh, I heard my friends say, you painted the walls in their villa, it seems in the hall and corridor of their new house.
Remind me what their name is? 'the artist asked, pleasantly surprised.
- Smith, they have finished the repair and already live there.
Alexander did not take his eyes off Anastasia.
- Good people, your acquaintances, I easily worked with them, we quickly approved the topic, I made sketches, they liked it, I translated it into material and quickly finished it, - the artist told about this order.
- And what happens the other way around? Lena asked.
- Anything can happen, - the artist answered evasively, - renovation, troublesome business, customers come across capricious, though in this case I simply refuse the order.
- How do you refuse, even after the received advance payment, and the work started? Maria looked at her friend in surprise.
Anastasia was also interested in the answer, the woman looked at the artist expectantly, although she was already familiar with his reputation.
- I do not take advances, and the beginning of work always carries certain risks, - the artist simply replied, not attaching importance to this phrase and not taking his eyes off Anastasia.
Maria had already begun to annoy the artist, Alexander restrained himself from harsh answers, but Anastasia attracted him like a magnet.
- How strange, the magnetism of this woman completely stunned and disarmed me, in her look there is charm and magic, he captivates and envelops at the same time, I seemed to fall into a cocoon entwined with a web of her beauty.
After going through several halls, the whole trio headed for the exit.
Alexander offered to drink coffee at a nearby coffee shop.
Maria agreed immediately, and Anastasia, after a minute of hesitation, nodded her head and the art lovers moved towards the cafe.
The artist, inspired by the opportunity to get to know each other better, joked, trying to amuse women.
In time, the proposed cognac added points to the asset of the monumentalist and joker.
- At the exhibition, one artist met a local businessman.
The entrepreneur wanted to have his portrait in such a way that everyone admired.
The artist agreed to paint a portrait for ten thousand dollars.
When he finished the work and brought it to the millionaire, he looked at the canvas and did not understand anything, then the customer turned the picture upside down and again did not understand anything.
"What did you bring me?" the businessman was angry, I need my portrait!
- I see you like this, - the artist was offended.
The millionaire took out a wallet, pulled out a hundred dollars from there and hands it to the artist.
- But we agreed on ten thousand dollars, - the artist was surprised.
"This is how I see ten thousand dollars..." the millionaire spread his hands.
Anyone can offend an artist, thought the genius of canvas and brush.
Maria laughed, but Anastasia looked at the artist with regret.
"It looks like a case in life.
- Yes, a similar story happened to my friend, nothing surprising, everyone can offend the artist, - Alexander repeated the last phrase of the story told.
Leaving the cafe, Alexander went to the metro, and Anastasia and Maria got into the car - a crossover parked not far away in the alley.
Before leaving, Alexander handed the women his business cards.
In the evening, while at home, Anastasia remembered the artist, thinking:
What a beautiful and courageous face, probably the artist likes women, he looks like a real macho, and what strong hands he has, when he touched my waist, letting me go forward to the table, it hit me like an electric shock, a pleasant hystom passed all over my body.
Having breakfast and drinking coffee, Anastasia again thought about Alexander, saying to herself: - I start to think about him too much, I need to throw the artist out of my head.
As soon as she thought so, her hand reached for the phone.
Having dialed the number, hearing the beeps, Anastasia wanted to turn off, but heard the artist's voice:
- Good afternoon Anastasia, I am glad of your call, I was just thinking about you, but I did not dare to call.
- I did the right thing, that I did not dare, - Anastasia thought, - however, it seems that I did something stupid and called first.
- Good afternoon Alexander, but Degas does not get out of my head and his "Blue Dancers," I also tend to believe that there is one girl in four poses, - the woman said the first thing that came to mind.
- Of course Anastasia, you are surprisingly perspicacious, you have a subtle mind and the external beauty of Helen of Troy, I want to take you to the places of Paris.
Anastasia answered:
- When an artist talks about the beauty of a woman, is he telling the truth or disingenuous?
- No, I'm not joking, Anastasia, you are a woman of rare beauty, I can't resist not to say it again.
Alexander internally strained, waiting for a nervous reaction from the interlocutor.
But the topic of the beauty of a woman, if it concerns personally, can be discussed endlessly. Any woman will drop her affairs, break all her plans when she hears flattering speeches addressed to her, even if the words are far from the truth.
- It seems that he really liked me, - Anastasia thought, smiled, remembering the tall figure of the artist.
- Anastasia, I want to see you again, can we meet today? - the artist said with a supplication in his voice and hidden hope.
- Oh, of course we can, - the woman thought and said,
- I don't know about today, I'm busy all day, what do you want to offer?
The artist was taken aback, he did not know what to offer such a beauty, unless only himself, but it is not decent to offer himself on the first day of acquaintance - what will she think?
- Anastasia, any creator always wants to show his essence in works, and since I am an artist, my works characterize the author and speak for themselves, I want to see you in my workshop, I hope that surrounded by works you will change your opinion about me.
And how do you want my opinion to be? Anastasia asked mockingly, rather, to tease the artist and flirt, let Alexander say another stupidity, but then thinking, the woman added:
- It's interesting for me to see your works, especially since I heard that they are filled with philosophical meaning.
- It is immediately clear that a person like you understands art, I can only express the hope that you will also like my paintings. You have elicate taste,
- I don't know, let's not make any plans - she didn't want to make specific promises, but the refusal to meet was not part of her plans.
- Then let's agree on a meeting, name the time and place, - the artist asked, uttering words with breath, clearly worried.
- Well, give the address of your workshop, I will arrive in three or four hours.
Alexander dictated the address and asked:
- When you arrive, call, I will immediately go out and meet you, please!
Anastasia liked such attention, the woman grinned, - see you, Alexander.
The connection turned off and the artist was left alone with his thoughts.
Immediately there were a lot of questions: - How to meet such a guest in such a mess, what to offer her and what to treat?
Alexander opened the windows, began to clean the entire workshop, it took him three hours. Running to the store, he brought food, after which the artist arranged the paintings, looked at the clock and began to wait.
Time was running out, four, hours had passed, the tension was growing, after another hour he began to lose patience and doubt whether Anastasia would come at all? The artist again swapped paintings, meticulously peering into the details.
In the center on the easel was the last work, the composition of a large canvas, one and a half by two meters, included several figures.
Finally the phone rang.
Anastasia drove up and Alexander ran to meet the woman.
Entering the entrance and climbing into the workshop, Anastasia squeamishly looked at the walls, trying not to touch the railing, at some point the woman regretted her decision, but there was no point in retreating, and she did not want to embarrass the artist.
Entering the workshop, the feeling of disgust was replaced by delight.
The workshop room filled with paintings was a kitchen of a real master.
Before the woman opened the world of a person about whom she had not known anything before, but now she stood stunned, her gaze stopped at the central work with figures.
Anastasia looked at the canvas completely crushed by the artist's talent.
- It's incredible how you came up with the idea of this picture, in the composition I saw a whole parable, a story about our life, this canvas needs a place in the museum.
Such a woman's reaction for Alexander was unexpected. The artist himself was far from such an impression, not counting his work as a super-duper, although he worked on it for a long time, thinking about the idea and details, now the exclamation of Anastasia took him by surprise.
- I, I don't know, the first thought that arose in my head when I started working, I remembered Theodore Gericault, his "Raft of the Medusa," but I decided to write my own, mixed with modernity and my personal impressions, and in the manner of writing characteristic of my work.
- Now let art critics argue, in the words of the hero of yesterday's joke - I see so...
Anastasia smiled, the woman turned to look at other paintings and sketches.
Alexander again admired her figure, a gentle profile of her face, a slightly upturned nose and juicy lips.
The desire to hug and kiss a woman burst into the open window of his head, pushing aside other thoughts, establishing himself firmly and thoroughly. Alexander barely restrained himself, so as not to immediately hug and dig a hot kiss into the juicy lips of an amazing guest.
Anastasia looked at the artist and apparently felt this heat of the heart, emanating from the whole figure of Alexander, the special brilliance of the eyes and that dumb delight on the face that is characteristic of a man.
Anastasia looked at the artist and apparently felt this heat of the heart, emanating from the whole figure of Alexander, the special brilliance of the eyes and that dumb delight on the face, which is characteristic of a man struck by the arrow of Cupid. A passion that cannot be hidden or covered up, even if you know how to pretend.
Anastasia delayed her gaze on the artist's face, the man blushed and embarrassed, ashamed of his own thoughts.
The artist's reaction amused the art lover, she again felt like a real woman, able to subjugate men with beauty.
However, Anastasia herself got into the network, placed by herself, she liked the artist, she already knew that "he was on the hook" and even if he tries to jump off, he will not succeed, now there is only one road left - to mutual proximity in bed.
And so the game is just beginning.
Alexander is an extraordinary person, it is impossible to do this with him, play and throw him away. Anastasia understood with her inner instinct that she was running into a serious feeling, completely different from the game.
Alexander, as a smart person, also understood the futility of his attempts to get closer to a woman, but the artist spoke in him.
The image of female beauty is the pinnacle in art, and the possession of this beauty is happiness multiplied by passion.
- Anastasia, - said the artist, - I want to paint your portrait, I already see the composition of the future canvas.
Anastasia looked in surprise and asked:
"As you can see, I'm interested.
Alexander took out a sheet of Whatman from the rack, fixing it on a tablet, installed it on an easel, then took coal and began to draw with energetic hand movements, commenting on the work on the sketch.
- You are extraordinary, my perception of your image is ambiguous, I see several women in you, but the main thing is your beauty, how you position yourself in this world.
Alexander painted a female figure similar to Anastasia, the face is facing the viewer, part of the picture plane is covered with a veil, the woman's clothes resemble an ancient Greek tunic, the upper part opens the right chest and half of the face, the left hand is raised and holds the veil, and the right holds an apple.
- An attentive look and a half smile should cause conflicting feelings in the viewer, - Alexander stopped and looked at Anastasia with delight.
- You have an ideal chest, this shape of the chest was taken to make a bowl in the temple of Artemis.
Anastasia was surprised to notice her drawn breasts, her left hand involuntarily reaching out and touching her right breast.
This interpretation of the image interested the woman, she almost agreed to pose for the artist, despite the naked breasts.
- Here is a preliminary sketch of my idea, of course the composition can change, but I will try to keep the first impression that you made and now lives in me. Anastasia, are you ready to pose?
Anastasia bowed her head, looked vaguely at the sketch, the woman was in a strange daze, as if she was looking at the ajar curtain behind which her second life was.
The initial childhood curiosity was replaced by the desire to have a portrait painted by Alexander, but how to explain posing with bare breasts will never be understood, and if we tell the artist about this, Alexander will consider me prude, backward and narrow-minded.
Anastasia remembered Salvador Dali, Galina posed for him, or, as he called her, Gala.
Yes, but Gala was Dali's wife, and I - who am I?
As if hearing the thoughts of his guests, the artist said:
- Anastasia, if you are confused by posing with bare breasts, I will understand you and will not insist, the composition can be changed.
- No, no, does not bother, in the end the bowl of Aphrodite, this is the best thing in my life, - Anastasia joked and smiled, - the whole country will look at my chest, and my friends will be jealous, - looking into the eyes of the artist, the model thought.
"Then maybe we'll start right now," the artist suggested.
- Where are you in a hurry, the game is just beginning, - Anastasia slyly squinted her eyes, but said aloud:
- Tomorrow we will continue, today I still have business, it's time to go.
The disappointed artist spread his hands - if necessary, I have nothing against, I will wait for our meeting.
- Until tomorrow Alexander, I don't need to see off, it was nice to talk, I will call you.
The next day, Anastasia did not call.
Only a day later, Alexander heard the call and rushed to the receiver.
Anastasia, as if nothing had happened, greeted and asked:
- Mr. Artist, have you changed your mind about painting my portrait?
- I'm already working on it, but I miss the model.
- The model is already flying to you on all sails, only currently stuck in a traffic jam, I will be as soon as I get out into the operational space.
Alexander was expecting a call, but now Anastasia's arrival, immediately after the conversation, came as a surprise.
- She is a real woman, it seems she likes to keep me in suspense, - the artist felt his heart beating, anticipating the meeting that he was waiting for and had already begun to doubt: "What if the woman changes her mind?"
Opening the door, Alexander let Anastasia in, not hiding his excitement, immediately hugged and dug a hot kiss into the woman's lips.
The guest did not resist, taken aback by such speed, she herself hugged the artist, pressed herself to him with her whole body, feeling the sweet clarity and a rush of passion carried away like a tsunami wave.
Clothes fell to the floor when Anastasia was left in only shoes, high heels, the artist picked up the model and transferred it to a wide bed.
"I did not expect such a turn of events," Anastasia thought, blissfully surrendering to Alexander's arms, "I did not think that he was so good.
Anastasia smiled, covering her eyes, she felt good, the woman felt that Alexander was crazy about their closeness and was ready for anything. The feeling of power over the man added passion, a sense of pleasure, which was so lacking in her life in recent years.
- How good, what woman, I am in a dream, is it really happiness to possess such a treasure fell to my lot? 'the artist enthused, hugging the model and kissing her delicate body.
The time of the meeting flew by.
"It's time for me to leave," Anastasia said sweetly and simply, it looks like my portrait will live in our imagination, "the woman joked, getting out of bed.
- Anastasia, if I didn't disappoint you, we still will have time for posing, in any case I am determined.
- It pleases, decisive artists are a rarity, - the model laughed, collecting scattered clothes.
Alexander again admired the naked figure of a woman.
Knowing that the artist was watching, Anastasia turned her back and bent over, as if trying to raise her heavy shoes, lingering in this position.
Alexander saw a line of hips, could not stand it and rushed to the woman.
- Carefully Alexaner, I'm late, - Anastasia laughed, hugging the artist.
But the passion was stronger than the need to leave the workshop.
Anastasia returned home late.
Having undressed, the woman went into the bathroom and stood under the shower for a long time.
A day later, the meeting again took place in the artist's workshop.
Alexander was unstoppable.
- Yes, he looks more like a frisky horse than an artist, - Anastasia smiled internally, once again indulging in passion.
- It looks like I'm starting to like it, but what will I do when the time comes to end this connection...
Two weeks after the start of the meetings, Alexander confessed his love to Anastasia.
- Anastasia, my angel, I can no longer imagine my life without you,
I love you with all my heart, you are a miracle in my life.
The artist began to paint a portrait, only now there was time for posing.
The initial plan endured minor changes, but in general, Alexander tried to maintain the feeling of meeting such an ideal model as Anastasia turned out to be.
Alexander tried to create a metaphorical, symbolic image, based on stylistics, which was a symbiosis of realism and expression, as two in one.
Anastasia appeared as a fatal woman, carrying goodness and destruction at the same time. The classic beauty of a woman really acted on the viewer, a magical look from the canvas attracted, turning into a rabbit, for boa constrictor.
The cold and warm color entered into a confrontation, dividing the model into two types of perception, making you empathize and admire one, at the same time alarming the viewer, peering into the cold, almost icy part of the picture.
Anastasia looked at her image, wondering how Alexander accurately conveyed the essence and state of mind, with unconditional external similarity.
- Alexander is an artist, his worldview is different from other people, - he invests philosophical meaning in every work, I must admit that my feelings for him have also changed, I fell in love like a girl, - Anastasia told herself.
"A real artist paints a woman in bed.
"Do you mean pastel?"
"And that too," Alexander replied and smiled.
Soon Anastasia became pregnant and they got married and live happily after.